


Droplets

by IanMuyrray



Series: True North [2]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Lemon, Mud, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rain Sex, True North AU, apple orchard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:36:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IanMuyrray/pseuds/IanMuyrray
Summary: There's a heat wave, a drought, and Ian's been away from the orchard a long time. He returns and brings rain with him.In TN Universe but can be read as standalone.





	Droplets

**Author's Note:**

> this out-of-the-main-arc ficlet is set the summer after the events of True North. it’s smut. PWP. a lemon. you don’t have to have read TN to read this. it’s sex for the sake of sex. 
> 
> it exists as a gift to @theministerskat because she has been bugging me about Jenny/Ian sex in the shower since way back when TN was at chapter 5 or so. at any rate, I countered with sex in the mud and rain (but left it open-ended for an eventual shower scene. I delay because guess what--Ian can’t wear his prosthesis in the shower and I’m not ready to write that for him yet). 
> 
> I’ll let you in on a lil secret: this is actually the 2nd smutty intermission I’ve written for TN, the other remains unpublished and only read by the women of OOT because it's a bit riskier than the usual smut round these parts, and especially risky for my smut skill-level. It’s not ready, I’m not ready.
> 
> but really, the weird thing about embarking on a longfic is, as a writer (at least in my experience), you end up mapping out an entire world and writing scenes for it that other people don’t really get to see-- but they sit in your head regardless as you develop the main arc. 
> 
> all this to say that yes, of course jenny and ian would have sex in the rain in the orchard-- why wouldn’t they? so I wrote that scene to see what it might be like. and I decided to share it with you.

The leaves on the trees were scorched at the tips, the grass crunchy under Jenny’s feet as she walked. The sun beat down on her, she could feel its pulse hot on her skin. 

She had told her employees to stay home and stay inside-- it was too hot to be doing outdoor labor. Usually, she deferred to Ian on these terms, but he had gone south to England for a few weeks. His da had had surgery; it was nothing too serious, he assured her before he’d left, but he did want to see his father through recovery. They mutually agreed that Jenny would stay and watch the orchard, even though she’d wanted to go with him. She knew Ian’s parents well and hadn’t seen them in a long time. But the orchard needed a watchful eye, and since the fire last fall, Jenny was hesitant to leave the grounds for very long. Instead, she sent her regards and some apple treats along, hoping the Murrays would enjoy them. 

This summer, they’d been hit with a drought, and in came a heat wave. Water use was limited, meaning there wasn’t much to be done at the orchard altogether. The farmhouse wasn’t air-conditioned, and Jenny spent quite a few days in front of plastic fans, sticky with sweat and in very little clothing, simply trying to remain comfortable. 

Dark clouds crowded the bright blue sky, and in the distance, Jenny sensed a roll of thunder. Rain was expected to come today, finally, and she was tired of being cooped up in the house. The trees had been calling to her, too, so here she was, offering them what little comfort she could in place of the water they longed for. It was still scorching hot out and very dry, but together they waited for the first drops to fall. 

In her hands, she held her notebook and pen, jotting down whatever came to her. She stopped at a tree, the dry grass pricking at her ankles through her sandals. This tree was certainly scorched, she thought, flicking a leaf out of her face from a branch, causing her pen to fly out of her hand. “Shoot,” she muttered, bending over to search for the pen in the dust and pale grass, under a few branches. “There ye are.” The blue pen was nestled against a knotted root, and she reached further for it. 

“Hi, Jen.” 

She jumped, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on a branch. Hands caressed her sides, making her gasp. They held her firm, and before she could turn to look she felt a mouth press soft against her neck. The rigidness of her body dissolved and she leaned back against him. 

“Mm. Ian.” 

“Missed ye.” A hand spread across her middle, pulling her even closer. 

“Missed you, too.” 

God, she had missed him. Knowing he was here, feeling him, she was swept up in comforting sense of warmth. Like the two close friends they were, but reunited across oceans instead of a distance of only a few weeks. The sense of him grounded her. What a relief it was to feel his touch again, to physically know his presence. She sank into it. She had been constantly reminded of him while he’d been away, longing for his smile and his body and his teasing way with her. She closed her eyes and rocked back against him, knowing from the sound of his sigh that he was relieved to be with her, too. She moved her hips against him, only slightly. His hand on her middle tightened, then he gently took her earlobe between his teeth. 

“It’s good to be home,” he said. Home. Because that was how he referred to Lallybroch: his home. Goosebumps pricked her skin at his words. They were settling in together, a routine they had always been in but never consciously accepted until now. Now that it was here, she wanted it more than anything, wanted him more than anything. 

Slowly, and deliberately, Ian’s hand on her middle slid down her body, his palm leaving a burning trail down to the hem of her skirt, fading into a featherlight touch against her bare thighs. His movements were teasing, drawing circles on her skin. She rested her head back on his shoulder, exposing more of her neck to his lips. 

He hummed his approval against her jaw as his hand drifted upward under her dress, searching. The touch, when it came, sent her head spinning, the world out of focus. She was dizzy in the warmth of him, woozy with the happiness of seeing him again. How she wanted him to touch her, here in the trees. 

With a clap, the sky cracked open, and a rush of wind blew as the rain fell hard and fast. They could hear the rain patter on the trees, the starved grass. Large drops fell hot on her cheeks and arms as they fell through the leaves, beading against her skin. From behind, his hips pressed, demanding an answer to his question. She rolled back against him, her hand coming to meet his between her legs, guiding him to her as his other hand palmed at her breast. 

“Christ,” she breathed as he touched her. “I missed you.” 

He kissed her neck, beginning to withdraw from her. “Want to go back to the house?” 

She blinked, slowly, feeling reality threaten to creep in. “No,” she said. “I don’t.” She turned in his arms, her clothing and skin growing damp in the rain, steaming. His face was flushed, his eyes bright and alert, though heavy lidded, as though in a haze. His grip on her had settled onto her waist, where it tightened. “Touch me more, Ian. Please.” She rubbed against him, knowing her cheeks were flushed, too, despite the coolness of the rain. 

“Mm. I can do that.” 

He drew her in and kissed her, sucking on her bottom lip until she squirmed against him, her hands pressing into his belt, tugging at the buckle, unclasping it. She took his cock in her hand with discretion, in case someone caught them, and began slowly stroking him. She heard his heart racing, felt the warmth of his breath as it quickened. She kissed him as she massaged him, taking in the smell of him -- sweat and earth and sun, even the sticky sweetness of her apples. He made secret little noises at the back of his throat, just for her, she smiled at the warmth of them. “I like it when ye breathe like that, Ian.” She ran her fingers through his hair, placed a kiss on his nose.

Jenny guided his hand to her again, inviting him in, aching for him to touch her. He pressed there and slowly massaged back and forth, making her grip his cock harder. She kissed his neck, feeling the flush and heat of his skin, sensing the response of his body to her touch. Sliding his hand into her panties, he felt for her clit, moving his hand gently at first, but picking up speed as she began to stroke him faster. Her breath hitched and she arched against him, pressing her breasts into his chest.

Her heart was hammering, and she felt hot against him. In one rough movement, Ian slid her panties down, and she kicked them to the side. The rain made Jenny’s hair cling to her cheeks and neck; she brushed the black waves out of the way and smoothed down her dress. His gaze upon her burned, and she pulled him with a fierce kiss towards her, unable to tolerate a moment of separation, and pulled him down to the muddy ground. There was tussling and laughter, and Jenny ended up on top of him, her skirt muddy around her hips, the rain cold and piercing on her skin. She slid down him until she felt him push against her.

Her palms were pressed against his chest, holding her upright as they looked to each other. The grass was sparse under the tree, but small batches of it pricked at her knees and shins on either side of Ian’s body, and the toes of Jenny’s shoes slipped on the slick ground. A gasp escaped her as she felt his hips start to move, gently sliding against her. She moved, too, reveling in the solidness of him, overcome with breathless excitement. Ian brought a hand up to her hair, slid it down her back until he felt her hips moving. With a moan, Jenny leaned forward, tucking her face into his neck, heedless of her palms in the dirt. His stubble was scratchy against her cheek, and she nuzzled him, bit his ear. 

“Stop playing around and fuck me,” she murmured. Ian gripped her hips tightly and pulled down, pushing himself inside her. She cried out, but the noise was swallowed by Ian, who pressed a hungry kiss to her mouth. Leaning back, she slowly rocked against him, one hand on his chest while she moved. Her breathing rose to a pant, matching the pace they set. She swept Ian’s hair back from his forehead with her thumb, caressing his brow and cheekbone before grasping the collar of his shirt with a fist. He gripped her hips hard, his fingers pressing into her skin.

“Oh god,” Jenny gasped as Ian softly massaged her clit with his thumb, pressing as she rocked back and forth. 

With a groan and a grin, he shifted his weight, sitting up as she rode him. The rain blotted out everything around them, the trees, the countryside, leaving only the two of them at the eye of it all. Their clothing and bodies were damp from the rain, and Jenny’s dress was tossed wildly up off her lap, chilling her thighs as she held Ian between them. 

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. To be with him was to be entirely put together, to be sure of herself, to have a firm foothold on what she wanted. With Ian around, she didn’t question anything, she didn’t need to. She held him tight, luxuriating in how his male scent mingled with the smell of the earth in the rain, how their bodies felt when joined. She was enveloped in his body heat, his hands broad and warm across her back, his body solid beneath her. 

Their noses touched, their breath mingled. He thrust deep and kissed her, his tongue searching, and she felt something deep shift within her, a space she hadn’t been aware of before that moment. The feeling reverberated out, hot, heavy, and swift, sweeping through her. Ian’s hands tugged on her hair, and only in the final moments did she realize that he had gone there, too. 

They held each other as their breathing slowed and the orchard became clear around them. Jenny’s dress was soaked, clinging to her body. She rocked back from him, untangling herself, and landed on her ass with a thwump on the ground. She shook dirt from her panties and slipped them on as she heard Ian reassembling his belt. 

“Ye’ll not mind, Ian?” she asked, busying herself with brushing mud from her knees. 

“Mind?” He laughed. How she loved that sound, how she’d missed it. “Mind what?” 

She gave him a sheepish grin. “I missed ye a lot.” 

He stood and offered a hand to help her up. “I could tell. Could ye tell I missed you, too?” 

“Mm, yes!” She wrapped an arm around his waist as they made their way to the house. “How’s your da?”

“Och, he’s fine. I’ll tell ye more after supper. How've things been here?” 

“They’re better.” She blinked as she looked up at the rain, holding out a hand to catch a few drops. 

“You are so muddy,” Ian commented, brushing a hand down her skirt on her backside, a little harder than necessary. 

“And whose fault is that?” Jenny quipped, noticing how incriminating the mud stains on both of them would be if someone were to see them. 

“Yer own.” Ian ducked as Jenny went to give his head a smack, laughing. He grabbed her and held her tight against him. “Let’s get cleaned up, aye? I saw no one else was here?” 

“Mmhm.” 

He pressed his nose to hers, then a light kiss to the lips. “Hm. Good.”


End file.
